Secundum Nex
by Morkael
Summary: Post TF:A. Lockdown realizes that he had liked more than just Prowl's skill and attitude now that he's gone. I fail at summaries. LockdownProwl, possible SwindleLockdown.
1. Offset

Okay, so this is my first venture into actually properly writing for Transformers: Animated. I'm going incredibly slow with this but it takes place after the end of the series, so if you haven't watched everything and want to avoid spoilers, I'd advise against reading. It will eventually have some proper LockdownProwl/ProwlLockdown as things progress. Beyond that...Pardon me for any failings on my writing. I'm still learning with the series. v_v;

**Disclaimer**: I own naught but the writing. Hasbro owns all of the characters.

---

Word spread quickly of the Autobots' return to Cybertron with Megatron and his two most loyal, the loss of Prowl with it. Even with how far out from the event itself he was, the news made it to Lockdown in just a few megacycles. The bounty hunter wasn't terribly surprised by the majority of the information and knew without thinking that his job would be affected, possibly even more interesting. While their leading officers had either been offlined or captured, there were still a lot of Decepticons out there that would be willing to pay to see the Autobots hurt or taken out. Beyond them, he may have to turn to the Elite Guard more often than he had been but he would still have a job.

The news about Prowl, on the other hand, elicited more of a reaction from the old mech. Even though the kid had turned him down and run off with the same modifications twice, he had held out on the hope that the uptight little ninja might change that decision. The sleek little thing had been the best partner he'd ever had along with being easy on the optics. When he heard about Prowl, actually saw the video feed, Lockdown had frozen for a good cycle before his processor actually came to grips with the image.

In all his stellar cycles as a bounty hunter, working for the highest bidder, he had never once considered taking on a partner before that job with the little ninja. It had been an experience that the green and black mech had relished and left him wanting more. His offer to let Prowl come with him as his partner, never before offered to anyone else, had been honest and the most vulnerable thing he'd done in his career. While he'd done the smart thing and left afterwards, Lockdown didn't take another job for several solar cycles. It took him that long just to get his processor under control and back into focus on what he was supposed to be doing.

He had managed well enough after the joint hunt to pull in a few more nice upgrades, personal trophies to add to his collection. Most jobs would take him only a dozen stellar cycles, if that. He had enough to keep everything running and still afford some relaxation, even the occasional interface that he got to craving after a while.

Then he'd run into Prowl again, while working for that one Elite Guard nut. He realized too late that he should have put Prowl in stasis before setting about his work but the temptation to watch that sleek, wonderful facial plating as it shifted had won out over sense. He didn't much mind aside from the fact that he had to run before getting turned in like just another Decepticon. At least he'd gotten to see that fierce little ninja spirit again.

Jobs had been harder to come by since then. Lockdown moved on from the little war to working for other odd races, most of them organic. While he didn't care for the strange creatures, they kept the bills paid, which was what mattered. Countless solar cycles went by, spent searching for another bounty that would be worth his time.

Now that he had seen the sparkless form of Prowl, still wearing the samurai modifications, something in him seemed to break, grinding all but his primary functions to a stop. Then that feeble little hope he'd had flickered out of its final moments and the old mech gave a grinding sound of frustration. Lockdown rose from his chair to his stabilizing servos and narrowed his optics, glaring at the monitor in front of him. His normal servo balled into a fist as he turned and struck to the side, slamming into the metal frame of the seat. "Slaggit all, kid. Ninja makes himself up into the best partner one could hope for then goes and does that. Prowl…"

Something in the bounty hunter's workings shifted and he latched onto an arm of the chair to keep upright. His optics flickered and he realized that the idea he'd been holding to for the past two stellar cycles hadn't been such a feeble hope. He had actually wanted the sleek little bot the entire time without fully realizing it. He was in for a long next stellar cycle if he didn't take any action to prevent the unwanted mourning process his old spark was about to send him through.

Forcing his processor to work through the haze that was slowing his functions, Lockdown scoured the console for a particular set of buttons and dialed them in, willing the other mech to be available. The signal stayed silent for several klicks before the screen lit to display a familiar arms dealer and his purple optics. "Why Lockdown, old pal, what can I get for you?" The Decepticon's vocals were as cheerful as ever, more proof that he was ever the opportunistic optimist.

The darker mech responded with a harsh grunt before grinding out, "Cut the act, Swindle. You know the news as well as I do and you just lost your biggest buyer. Looks like we're both hard pressed to keep a proper income now." He crossed his arms and glowered up at the screen. "Unless you've got a job, that is."

Swindle refreshed his optics then laughed. "You may be running low on credits but I still have plenty to do even with the old warmonger out of the picture." He watched the bounty hunter shift irritable before noting, "Something's eating at your core and you're hoping I can provide you with a client, right? If I do that for you, I still expect payment. Or…" The dealer paused, checking what he'd gathered from how the other was holding himself, telltale signs that he had learned to read. "Or I could offer you something better if you're willing to pay for a single drink."

Lockdown's red optics flashed off in a blink as he regarded the other mech. He knew Swindle would be benefiting somehow either way but it took him a good cycle to think through it properly after accepting the second offer and working out the details to understand just what the 'Con had in mind. Optics narrowed and the bounty hunter stated, "I'm not 'facin with some bot just because you need a steady contact."

The dealer laughed and held up his servos to ward off the accusation. "I wasn't implying anything of the sort. What's a good drink between business partners?" He gave that smile he was known for wearing when trying to sell something. "That's all I'm asking for right now, a simple bit of high grade."

With a reluctant, wary nod, Lockdown finalized the arrangement and ended the call.


	2. A Drink and a Deal

While he never would have openly admitted it, Lockdown's rough old spark had ached quite uncomfortably for the other little bot the entire time since he'd had to leave Earth. There were solar cycles where he would jerk out of recharge pained, with his plating warmer than usual, periods where he would have to take what little rest he could get and chase away the phantom of the Autobot with work. It had pushed him to some of his best work and some of his worst. It was only through much effort that he had kept Swindle from finding out about and abusing the unexpected weakness.

Now, here he was, sitting in a seedy little bar next to the tan mech and paying for a round of drinks. Dancing against the far wall were several femmes and a single slender mech in shades of blue. Just a few stellar cycles back, Lockdown would have readily considered parting with some of his hard earned credits to enjoy their services. This visit was visibly different from previous ventures as the bounty hunter wasn't even looking in the dancers' direction. Instead, his optics were focused on the high grade sitting in front of him.

Swindle was treating the visit just like any other and leaning back against the sturdy counter to Lockdown's left. His drink was held calmly in one servo as he watched the provided show. He was skillfully ignoring the bounty hunter's melancholy in an effort to get the other to actually say something. So far, and they'd been there for a good twenty cycles, the most to come out of the darker figure had been his brief greeting and his drink order. All he'd given since then in response to the arms dealer's friendly questions had been one word answers as he stared at the counter.

"Come on, Lockdown, you can't say that nothing has happened in the last stellar cycle. There's been plenty of business on my end and you wouldn't have agreed to this if you'd just been sitting on that pretty ship of yours." Purple optics looked away from the dancers to focus on the other mech. "Couldn't you take the time to elaborate on your daring ventures for me?"

After a brief and uninterested grunt, the bounty hunter pulled his head up to glare over at his drinking partner. "I could," he grumbled, "but somethin in the processor's tellin me we're not just here to chat. Care to save that aft of yours and let me know exactly what it is you had in mind?" His tone had a darker than usual bite in it, one that was more aggressively defensive than cocky and sadistic.

Refreshing his optics and shrugging, Swindle admitted, "You're right. I had more in mind than that pleasant little conversation I seemed to be having with myself there. Good to see you're still so alert while nursing your grieving spark like that." A low growl interrupted the dealer in response to the comment and a bulky servo came up to indicate that he had something better to add on. "Coming here to discuss a business deal now that the old warmonger and his lieutenants have been detained is more secure than having our dealings left on a decodable channel. I simply wanted to be sure that we'll be online for a while longer yet."

There was a harsh laugh and Lockdown emptied the cube that had been resting in front of him the entire time. "That's what you say, at any rate. Still not too sure I believe you. Gotta admit you're one of the few bots with the sparkplugs to press my buttons, thought, which gets you some credit." Optics settled on his now empty drink before flicking over to settle on lilac. "Your turn to pay if you really wanna get me talking." His facial plating shifted to allow for a masking grin as Swindle shook his head.

"And here I thought you might've learned a new trick. Oh well. No use fighting a losing battle like that." Without hesitation, the tan mech paid for a second drink for the other. "If this is what it takes to loosen your old cogs then so be it." He paused, watching in slight amusement as his green and black companion downed the second cube. "You know, I've always appreciated that materialistic nature of yours when it comes to anything other than that hunt you enjoy so much. Meant you'd always know what something was worth despite what I told you."

With a shake of his head, the bounty hunter clarified, "It was either that or let you live up to your name and rob me of some hard earned credits. Pit, Swindle, you know I'd come back to take it out of your slaggin hide if I didn't get my money's worth." His expression soured a bit as he worked his way through another drink.

Swindle continued to drag little bits of conversation from his companion as the dark mech grew progressively moodier. About halfway through his sixth cube of high grade, Lockdown had been slowing down his drinking as he went, he simply stopped and settled his optics on the counter beneath the cube. After several more cycles of attempting to pry more out of him, the dealer gave up and settled for watching the dancers in relative silence. The hunter would speak up when he wanted to.

"I respected him, you know." Lockdown hadn't moved beyond the servo that was not gripping his drink, was still sitting staring at the stained surface beneath it with his shoulders hunched forward. "I never do that for someone I haven't dealt with. You, Megatron, Blitzwing…y'all're 'bots I've dealt with before. Prowl… 've never trusted another 'bot that quickly. Didn't help me any that he woulda made a fine partner. Kid was good, easily up at our level." The hunter shook his head in what Swindle took as a sign of defeat before adding, "Had a nice aft, too."

The bulkier mech refreshed his optics in silent amusement. There was no mistaking Lockdown for someone else, that was for sure, and the newly revealed information explained his odd reluctance to pay attention to the entertainment. The old 'bot had been wanting the sleek little ninja for a couple of stellar cycles. He was mourning something he'd had for only a couple of solar cycles in that two stellar cycles since meeting the bike.

There was a pause and Lockdown continued, "Kid's not just offline." He gave a wary, weary look. "Missed whatever it was he did but I can still feel him. 'Bot's still there somehow, eatin' at my spark like nothin else ever has." He rest his servo on the counter and edgily drummed his fingers. "This ain't what I wanted, Swindle."

The bulkier mech had never seen the bounty hunter so rattled by something in all of their stellar cycles of dealing with each other. It was almost unsettling but he managed to take it in stride. "I imagine it isn't something any bot would want so I'll make you a deal. I'll find jobs for you if I can, keep you and that crusty old spark of yours distracted in return for a few favors as I see fit. You'll keep what you make on your hunting and I get later compensation for my effort." There was a brief silence where all that the scarred mech gave was a puzzled blink. "We'll clear it all up later, of course."

The mix-matched mech gave a low mutter and rubbed his servo over his facial plating. His processor wasn't moving at top speed, slowed by how much high-grade he'd taken in. That didn't give him much in the way of options as he tried to understand the offer. It didn't make much sense to his current spark-led state but it sounded good enough for the moment. He nodded and forced his vocals to work again. "Yeah, sure. Just…keep me busy."


	3. Clarification

When he rebooted, Lockdown had a big processor ache and was less than thrilled to discover Swindle sitting on the bridge of his ship. His memory of the previous night was shot, rendering the bounty hunter effectively clueless of what he'd agreed to and giving the tan mech a big advantage. With narrowed optics, he ousted the arms dealer from the pilot's chair and reclaimed it for himself before demanding, "Explain the agreement to me." There was only one reason Swindle would have stayed on his ship until he was conscious and that was to work out the details of an arrangement.

Lilac optics refreshed and the bulkier mech acquiesced with a smug confidence. "Nice and simple, Lockdown. I hook you up with some employment, a steady line of jobs, and you, my friend, repay me with some favors of my choosing. No terms, it is what it is." Facial plating shifted to a grin as another sign that the deal was already set.

The hunter gave a frustrated sound that was half pain from his hangover. "No terms…" He shook his head to clear it a bit then asked, "How about we set those terms, then? Better late than not at all." He didn't want to get caught in something unpleasant with Swindle of all mechs. He was shady enough that the other bot knew better than to leave everything open-ended.

The heckler made an effort to look affronted at the near demand. "Am I not a trusted business partner? I'm already giving you such a good deal." Facial plating shifted to a more neutral expression as he noted the bounty hunter's continued glare. The tan mech held up a servo, silently admitting that he understood his companion's frustrated concern. "What did you have in mind, then?"

Lockdown took a moment to respond, fighting through his still muggy processor for proper clarity. His servo came up to rub over slack plating until he finally grated out, "No interfacing or anything like that until I'm ready. No turning me over to anyone just because they can pay you better." He paused, refreshed his optics. "Holdin myself to that, too. Better business. Makes us even after that incident with…" Going silent and giving up on recalling the name, the scarred mech shook his head.

After a moment, Swindle nodded. "Reasonable enough. You get all of the money you pull in, we can't sell each other out to the highest bidder, and I can pull you in for some favors as I see fit as long as I don't ask you to interface with anyone." The bulkier Decepticon grinned and offered his servo, left out of habit after dealing with the bounty hunter for so long. "I think we have an agreement."

With a slow nod, the scarred mech shook on the deal before leaning back in his chair and offlining his optics. That took some of the strain off of his aching processor and let it slip into a higher gear, giving him a higher chance of getting the other bot to leave. Given the hunter's preference for solitude and the dulled perception of his old spark, that was really all he wanted. To make his point clear, Lockdown clarified, "I'm not getting anything else from you this solar cycle so if you're finished, show yourself out."

Understanding completely that his presence wasn't wanted, he had taken the ragged mech out for high grade and dealt with the aftereffects before, the dealer gave an apathetic blink of his optics and let himself out of the ship. He had learned many stellar cycles back that Lockdown was better left on his own after a night of heavy drinking. The mech had a good temper when working through a hangover and had already been more than generous with his time thus far.

Still slumped in his chair in front of the main console of his ship, optics off to keep out unwanted light, Lockdown almost wished he could power down and slip into recharge until the remnant effects of his drinking were gone. He appreciated the temporary haze on his spark, it blocked out unwanted senses, but the inability to focus well on anything, especially if it involved looking at something, was frustrating. The scarred mech was not a fan of sitting still. He would much rather be out working or deciding on what upgrade would be most beneficial as a personal modification. Instead, here he was, effectively blind and motionless, at the whim of the intense ache keeping him from thinking.

After several cycles of dull but pained stillness, processor blissfully blank, the fuzz keeping everything quiet faded to a noticeable point and that less than welcome pain from his ragged old spark seeped back into his frame. His memory stayed clear for a few moments longer, pleasant and black like the void he'd grown accustomed to. Then the images started to come back, reminding him of exactly why he'd agreed to meet with Swindle the night before. It felt as though the thoughts of the sleek little Autobot, someone he just wanted to forget about and move on from, were leaking through to his core where he wouldn't be able to get rid of them.

The scarred mech gave an unhappy grunt and forced his optics online once more. He cursed at the light for a moment before shaking his head and pushing up onto his stabilizing servos to head back to his workshop. His ragged frame crashed into the wall at one point, a result of his skewed equilibrium from the painful hangover. Then Lockdown righted himself and finished stumbling into the other room.

Under regular circumstances he would have hidden away in his berth, away from the rest of the universe, to nurse himself back to health. These were hardly normal conditions, though, and the motley mech knew it. He hated running away from any kind of challenge and here he was, hiding from just the memory of the one bot his spark had ever wanted. Lockdown, fearless bounty hunter extraordinaire, was afraid.


	4. Awakening

Shouting from the holding cell snapped his attention up from the alteration he'd been making to a cannon modification he'd been planning to use. He turned up his audio receptors in an attempt to make sense of the mad yells but to no avail. They remained gibberish, even when run through the basic filters that he'd installed. Muttering something about how the chamber should have been empty, the bounty hunter set aside his work to see what had slipped into his ship without setting off any alarms.

As he drew up to the door, the voice died out to be replaced by something banging heavily against the walls. Red optics narrowed slightly as facial plating shifted to a dark glower. Lockdown kept security on his ship incredibly tight so that nothing could get in without his notice. For something to get in and stuck like what had apparently happened put the dark mech on edge.

He thumbed the control for the door, which promptly shot to the side, taking all light in the ship with it to leave the mech standing in a black abyss. Optics refreshed and there was a mutter of, "Oh slag," as the rag-tag figure's processor kicked into gear. He dropped into a wary stance just as a familiar blue visor faded into view. The azure glow lit horribly familiar features framed by the shape of a helmet.

The specter of Prowl solidified, taking on its proper colors despite the lack of light. Once it had been there for several klicks, it spoke, saying things that the bounty hunter had heard before. "That's very flattering, Lockdown, but I've decided that all this over-modification is strictly for weak processors. Playing with your toys may have been fun for a while but in the end it just wasn't me. It's the ninja-bot, not the weapon." The words haunted the mech, toying at the invisible strings of his once careless spark. They were what had nearly crushed him so many times in the past couple stellar cycles. The harsh tone's bite still stung as much as it had the first time.

Swirling, wispy tendrils emerged from the black behind the ninja, wrapping around his slender figure. The vines slid over ebon and gold plating and caressed sensitive spots to draw the Autobot's features into an expression of violated rage. As Prowl struggled to fight back and rid himself of the unwanted contact, claws and thorns developed. The mass spread and eventually consumed the bot. The last thing Lockdown saw of the apparition from where he was trapped observing was a look of fear.

The next thing the bounty hunter knew was the sensation of something being ripped from his frame. Feeling where every single modification he'd made to himself had been torn from its home, the ragged mech crashed to the floor of the dark space with a pained cry. Left with just the remnants of his original form, he was stranded there, unable to get up past his knees.

As he stilled in the black space, processor coming to terms with and compensating for the agony he was in, a pair of figures loomed over him. The familiar countenance of Swindle, ever grinning and selling his wares, stood beside Yoketron whose expression was once again one of disappointment. The aged Autobot looked exactly as he had so many thousands of stellar cycles ago, calm and collected in his quiet paint job and with the helmet still sitting there, taunting Lockdown's failure. It was always there, leering at him, daring him to take it.

The apparition that was his former teacher looked down at him, blue optics somber, and spoke. "You must overcome your weakness, Lockdown, to become the great cyber-ninja that I trained you to be. With the right processing, you have the prowess to achieve the same as your fellow students despite your missing parts."

With a growl of distaste, the wounded mech turned towards the Decepticon that had pulled him through so much. The tan bot was frowning slightly, assessing damage and resultant cost to see if it would be worth his effort to stay involved. With the number of parts that would be needed to keep such a ragged mech in working condition, he was coming to the conclusion that the cost would likely outweigh its benefits unless certain terms were set.

Having come to a decision, the bulky figure vocalized, "You're in pretty bad shape there, Lockdown. Looks like you need some new parts just to keep yourself going. I could provide them for you…for a hefty price. But what could be worth more than staying online, right?" The dealer's customary grin returned as he let the offer hand in the air over his bounty hunter companion. "It should be easy enough for you of all mechs to pay me back once in working condition again."

Lockdown looked between the two mechs before slipping back down from his knees onto the floor as something in his arm gave out. Face crashing into the floor and jarring his senses, he grunted and was reminded by the temporary flash of pain that he had modified several of the connections in his forearm to make space for the chainsaw he had equipped himself with. Realizing just how vulnerable he was, he forced his jaw closed again and growled, pushing himself up to his knees. With most of his lower left leg missing, he staggered upright. He refused to lose to something that he could deal with and injuries like these were one of those things he knew how to handle.

The ragtag mech once again looked between the two apparitions that still stood before him, faced with the odd combination of convenience and will that he was. With a set frown, he took a step towards Swindle before falling forward onto his hand again. It wasn't until he was once more getting to his feet that he caught sight of the specter of Prowl, standing behind Yoketron. The appearance gave the lanky, mismatched hunter pause and forced him to stop.

Before Lockdown could decide which way to go, he was so stuck between the two options, his vision went black and the floor dropped from under him. There was nothing for him to grab onto and all of his modifications were still missing from his frame. A wave of fear like nothing he'd ever known shot through him and he fought to find something to brake his fall.

With a start, Lockdown shot up from his berth and toppled over onto the floor, sound of his crash echoing through the room. He fumbled at his different parts for a moment, checking to make sure they were all there again. With a relieved grunt, he pushed himself up and to the nearest console to punch in the command for Swindle's frequency. He needed another job.


	5. Arrangement

Waking to the incessant ringing of an incoming call at a time he normally spent in recharge was not the tan mech's idea of a good morning. He onlined his lavender optics, which were narrowed to a point rarely seen by others and screened the frequency of the client to see that it was the one number he couldn't simply ignore. Lockdown's response to silence from a trusted partner was to track the missing individual down and extract a good reason from them. Having seen the results of such firsthand, the bulky Decepticon rose from where he'd been resting and moved to answer the page.

Grin in place and optics lit with their usual, albeit false, jovial light, Swindle put the transmission through on the monitor in front of him and greeted, "Lockdown, what can I do for you at this time of morning?" The forced cheerful tone lacing his voice managed to hide his displeasure at the fact that he'd been woken from a much-needed rest. The life of an arms dealer was always busy, susceptible to odd hours and solar cycles without a chance to recharge. The bounty hunter, curse his timing, had decided to interrupt the only chance the lighter mech had found for such in nearly a week.

The recharge-deprived mech finally took the time to actually look at the screen before him to see that his caller was still hidden away in his private quarters on his ship, from whence he very rarely made calls let alone for some form of transaction. The bounty hunter had several fresh scrapes on his frame and the floor behind him bore some scratches that seemed to line up with the markings. Even the usually bright red optics were somewhat dimmer than usual, dulled by what the dealer assumed was exhaustion.

"Drop the mask, Swindle. I'm not doing this just to make another deal with you." The grating voice was rougher than normal, another sign that the mismatched figure was running low on energy as well. "You know why I'm calling."

Letting his expression fall flat, something he would only do in front of trusted customers such as the one presently before him, the haggler's optics dimmed slightly. After a moment, he frowned. He had received confirmation just a few megacycles ago that Lockdown had finished his job and received payment. It hadn't been even a solar cycle since that last trip out and here he was asking for another. "Planning to run yourself down to nothing again, are you?"

There was a grunt as the lanky mech shifted and he ground out a response. "It's better than having to put up with the slag that's mucking up my processor right now. So do you have something I can take off with or am I gonna have to look for this one myself? You know I will if you're not ready." The green and black figure narrowed his optics slightly, almost glaring at the salesman.

Holding up a servo, Swindle looked away from the main screen to pull files up elsewhere. "Hold on just a cycle there, Lockdown. I'm sure I've got something for you in here." He accessed one folder and browsed dates and other information to judge whether the other mech would want to deal with any of the offerings. He had served as the bounty hunter's coordinator before and the constant scouring of listings was easy enough to deal with as a result.

Setting one job offering up on the side of the main screen where it would display for both of them, he gave the unaligned a chance to read through the details for himself. It was a simple enough job, set up by one of the remaining, scattered Decepticons. The goal was to get a sprightly little femme to a neighboring planet while providing relative safety for the trip.

Watching as Lockdown's facial plating shifted towards a grimace, the arms dealer spoke up, "I know it's not your favorite kind of job but it sounds like she would at least be distracting for the time you have to put up wither her, which is what you seem to be after right now. She should be available to set things up with, too, if you don't have any objections."

Red optics brightened ever so slightly at the mention of a distraction and the ragtag mech reached up with his hook to scratch at the back of his neck. "Could be worth the effort, then. Pay's good enough and I've been out there often enough to know my way around." He let his arm drop back down to his side and nodded. "That'll work. Send the file and start setting it up with the client. I'll call in again, direct to her, once I'm ready to head that way."

With a nod, Swindle settled into a position that would allow him to work better. "She'll be expecting a wave from your frequency. If you decide you need anything else in the way of supplies on your way out, let me know and we'll work something out." Faced with at least another few cycles of work, the salesman was falling back into his habitual mannerisms to once again hide his rechargeless state.

Once he had the full details of the job sending to Lockdown, progress on the transfer shown on a monitor to the side, he drew up the frequency needed to reach the Decepticon he'd just booked the job for and sent out a signal in her direction. It wasn't long before the call was answered and a sleek dark grey femme with purple and green detailing showed up on the screen. The vivid markings tracking around her face of a green vivid enough that she was hard to miss. Then she spoke in a voice more grating than most that he'd heard in his stellar cycles of business. "Oi, chum. Odd time for someone to be makin a business call, ain't it? Whatever. I finally got a taker for that job I posted?"

Holding back the grimace he wanted to give as soon as he'd heard the client, he instead gave his usual broad grin and replied, "I found you someone that should be good for it. Millions of stellar cycles of experience and top of his field. Megatron himself would recommend Lockdown for something like this." Swindle pulled up the information that he'd told the bounty hunter he would provide for the femme and sent it to her. "He should be contacting you to work out details in half a megacycle at the latest."

The small Decepticon on the screen nodded and shot her fist up into the air. "Right-o! I'll be ready to work the rest out when he shows up, then." Contrasting facial plating shifted to a grin as she added, "Thanks for settin somethin up for me, chum. You go lay down for a recharge or sumfin' old bot and Locky an I'll take care o the rest." Without waiting for a response, she cut the connection and left Swindle facing a blank screen.


	6. Strikewave

AN: Oh augh. This chapter is both late and short. I'll be making up for it with the next couple, promise. This one just had to be done to get me back in the practice of writing after being sick the way I was. No apologies because I still suck for putting this chapter off for a full week.

* * *

As far as any of the more established Decepticons were concerned, Strikewave was a relatively young little femme. With a frame that had originally been nearly completely dark grey and was now masked by all manner of indigo and lime green highlights, she had started out as hard to miss for the most part. What had gotten her the little reputation she'd developed was her will to pick a fight with just about anyone she hadn't already lost miserably to, other Decepticons included. Resultant needed repairs aside, the scrappy little bot considered herself a work of absolute art with her dark base as the canvas. Her paint job was not the only modification she had made.

It'd hadn't been long since the call with Swindle, ten cycles or so from when she'd cut the connection, that a tone alerted her to a call from an expected frequency. Skittering over to the com panel from across the small room she had where currently stationed by what was left of the resistance, she let the transmission through to display on the only screen she had and looked for the first time at the moving visage of the mech that had taken the job to get her to her chosen destination. Grinning broadly, she greeted, "You must be ol' Lockdown. Swindle'd said ya'd be pagin me."

On the other end of the call, standing in front of the main console of his ship and looking every bit as haggard as he had while setting things up with their shared contact, Lockdown didn't bother to hide his grimace at the grating voice of the femme. Not even a cycle had passed since the start of the chat and already he knew that he was in for a long job where he was going to hate the client by the end of the trip. He narrowed his optics slightly and looked over her, noting that she couldn't even be bothered to stand still for a few nanokliks. "Yeah, I'm Lockdown. Means you're Strikewave, then." The mech leaned forward to rest his servo on the panel in front of him and gave the screen a better scrutiny. "Interesting little paint job you've gotten yourself there. Lots of old scrapes, too. You trying to hide something from the other Decepticons?"

"Oi! You got any idea wotch'er suggestin there?" Strikewave shot back, vocals full of indignation. "Why'd I be hidin somethin from the rest a that lot? I'm loyal long as I can get me some scufflin in like I want." She crossed her wiry arms and glared back at the offending bounty hunter, daring him to press his luck even though they were more than a solar cycle apart.

Responding with a growl, the unaligned held up his hook, showing it off to the sprightly, Decepticon and returned, "You don't want to be pressing your luck, _kid_, because I've got stellar cycles on you and you really don't want to see what I can do to you. Yeah, you've got the sparkplugs to be a Con but that's not going to get you anywhere, especially not with me." He gave a dark smirk, letting his arm fall back to his side. "I didn't get where I am by being nice. Torn plenty of bots up, Decepticon and Autobot alike, to get my rep."

That was when she did something that he hadn't expected; the small femme laughed. Not only that but he realized that it was a sound of honest enjoyment, that she actually liked the confrontational aspect of their talk. When she stopped, Strikewave cockily put her hands behind her head, grinned at the ragged mech as she leaned back, and mused, "Lookin like it's gonna be a fun spell wit ya, Locky. Gotta agree wit what I was told an say you're definitely the best at'cher job."

Lockdown's facial plating froze for a long moment as he ran back through what he'd just heard. In all of his millions of stellar cycles since taking up his job, not one client had dared to shorten his hard earned and self-given designation like that. Several nanokliks later, his processor caught up with things and his engine revved dangerously. Optics narrowing to math the rest of the snarl he was giving the little Decepticon, he ground out, "Do _not_ call me that, kid, or I will see to it that you never make it to that destination of yours in one piece."

Still utterly assured, she gave a relaxed, "Right-o, then. Call ya Lockdown. Easy enough." The femme stretched her arms up over her head and grinned yet again before asking, "So when'll you be gettin 'ere? Or are ya gonna back out on somethin 'at'll get'cha paid?"

"Thirty-six megacycles. You'd better be ready when I get there because I'm not going to wait for a bot like you. I stick to my schedule." Not even looking at the screen anymore, his optics were focused on what he was busy entering into the nav-system to get him out to the right place, he waited to hear confirmation of the time before casually flicking the transmission off.


	7. Rule Number Two

AN: Gah, I'm sorry for the two week gap. D8 I got distracted by other things. Anyways, moving to a new update schedule of Sundays because that works best with my classes. And behold, Strikewave lacks common sense.

* * *

Thirty-six megacycles spent in transit on a ship with another bot were perfectly fine and manageable for most. For a loner like Lockdown, it was more often a comfortable thirty-six megacycles spent alone, planning what modifications to use and musing over what would happen with his pay once he was stocked up on energon again. In the solar cycles since his deal with Swindle had started, the scarred old mech was starting to prefer the interaction just because it kept him from communing with what his aged spark was telling him. With someone else around, he could avoid slipping into recharge and being faced with images that he had long since buried under what he found to be more useful information.

It wasn't for lack of trying that the bounty hunter slipped into the much-needed light stasis while sitting in the chair before his ship's main console. It wasn't until he was back on Earth with a bound Prowl on the large table behind him that the rag-tag mech even realized his systems had shut down on their own. Even then, there wasn't much he could do to reboot because he'd been running on so little, so he watched events unfold just as they had the first time. The sleek black and cream mech with his gold highlights put up what the once-Autobot had to admit was one of the best fights he'd had in centuries. Not many came even close to having that kind of skill.

When the replay got to where the ninjabot displayed his newfound mastery of processor over matter, everything froze and Lockdown realized that his observing consciousness could do more than stand on the sidelines watching. After a long moment of absolute silence and utter stillness, the spiked muscle car invaded the image with his heavy steps. He never had gotten the chance to get a good look at the changed little bot, not with the real helmet. Nor had he ever been able to see his own expression from the unusual situation. All that had been left after his narrow escape from the demolished stadium was a grudging bitterness that he'd been bested again by the one Autobot that had taken the time to willingly put aside his reservations and become another ruthless bounty hunter, even just for a single solar cycle and that spark-based longing that he wanted nothing more than to wipe from his core.

After several long megacycles of nothing but darkness with fleeting images of that same Autobot, Lockdown sluggishly rebooted to what he thought was a hand on his shoulder guard, between the large spikes. Out of some defense mechanism he'd developed over the eons, the mix-matched mech lashed out only to have his arm meet the back of his chair with a sharp ring and enough momentum to pull him from his slump over the thankfully inactive controls. Processor jolted back into full alertness from the pain shooting up from the joint he'd just bent out of shape, he scanned the bridge for the source of what he'd sensed. Narrowed red optics glanced over everything in the large empty room only to turn up nothing. With a less than happy rev of his engine and a mutter, he rose to his pedes and glared at the console for not having bothered to keep him online.

Half a megacycle later, with the dent worked out of his elbow, the bounty hunter spared the time to see how long was left until the meet with his client. Noting that he had little more than a scant three megacycles left and that he couldn't afford to slip into recharge again until after he'd picked up the sprightly Decepticon, he muttered something to himself and set about preparing a room for the femme to use while she was onboard. He wasn't about to let something like her share his berth or have full reign of the ship.

Because his vessel wasn't meant for passengers or the storage of an amassed collection of gruesome trophies, the mech wound up converting a room he'd been using for the storage of less stellar parts back to its original state and shoving its contents unglamorously into the closet down the hall. The highly unstable pile nearly fell out onto him as he added to it several times but the fit into the new and considerably smaller space after much carefully applied force. It also left him facing a room that he hadn't seen so very bare in thousands of stellar cycles and able to entertain ideas of what might have happened if he'd gotten lucky with a certain late-Autobot. Then came the realization that he would have had to part with some of his trophies just to keep said bot around and an attempt to rationalize how that would have possibly played out.

Finally, the time of the meet came and Lockdown left his ship to find his client. On such a small planet with really no defining features to speak of beyond a geyser of some luminescent gas that he didn't care enough to recognize, let alone name, and covered only by small rocks, he needn't have bothered as the stranded femme about pounced when he started down the ramp.

Spindly little arms wrapped around his waist as the full weight of the little femme crashed into him with a resultant scrape of metal on unforgiving metal. As the older bot regained his now changed balance, there came a very enthusiastic greeting of, "Oi, took ya long enough!" followed by her legs wrapping around one of his own. "Been gettin tired 'a catchin li'l organic thins to squish."

Red optics narrowed to dangerous slits, the larger mech reached down and pried his client from where she was clinging to his frame. "Kid, if you do that again, I don't care how much you're payin me, I _will_ scrap you." He set the now flailing figure down inside the ship and set about closing it up to get off the Primus-forsaken planet his temporary companion had been stranded on. "The respect of a faction means nothing to me and you don't have the mods to make up for getting too close. Yeah, you've got a cute little frame and plenty of spunk but I bite back."

Strikewave climbed up to her pedes and grinned at the stark countenance that was a good distance above her own head. She casually placed her servos behind her head and questioned, "So 'at's another rule, then? Don't get too close? Coz I can break 'at'n easy, specially wit you lookin like you 'aven't had a proper charge in a few solar cycles." She then promptly jumped forward and latched onto his shoulder spikes with both servos.

With a fierce roar of his engine, Lockdown ripped the little Decepticon from where she was dangling and shoved her into the door, pinning her in place with his bulk. Processor racing from the wave of highly unwanted sensation that he'd picked up from the large spikes, he leaned forward until his optics were boring right into those of his client. "Rule number one," he growled, "is to call me Lockdown. Rule number two." His hook settled near the helm of the femme, tracing its outline against the door with a slow, painful scrape that made her squirm. "_Never_ touch those spikes or I will personally see to it that you offline slowly, one little piece at a time. You got that little bot?"

Stilling with a low growl, the energetic thing answered, "A'ight, fine. I won't grab 'em again. Now lemme down from 'ere." She glared back at her transportation as he muttered something that she couldn't catch before he let go. Bright optics still focused on the bounty hunter, she made one more remark before settling on the floor. "Yer gonna make this trip boring as Pit wit rules like 'at."


	8. Pushing Buttons

A/N: I live and finally bring a new update with me. I'll be working more on this now that I'm on winter break. Back to weekly updates for now. Sorry for the horrendously long gap.

* * *

After he had seen to it that his client had retreated to the room she had for the duration of the trip, it was going to take a couple of solar cycles no matter which route they took, Lockdown retreated to his own quarters to see if he could finally slip into recharge without incident for a change. His energy reserves were low enough that even the little altercation with Strikewave during which he'd begun to establish the rules she would have to follow left him feeling aches that he was less than accustomed to. He had been keeping up a good intake of energon to keep his systems running but that was it beyond the unintended stasis from earlier. He needed to rest and he was going to get some.

Before leaving the diminutive Decepticon in her temporary room, the bounty hunter had made one thing clear: he expected her to stay put or at the very least not touch anything. This, of course, translated to something else entirely for her as soon as he had left because she waited a scant half-megacycle before slipping out to explore the ship's different areas. After having been stranded on such a small and dull planet by herself for so long, Strikewave was only more than willing to explore every nook and cranny that her small frame could reach.

The halls of the ship were dark, unlit as the bounty hunter had turned off the lights to conserve power. All that remained was the glow from the room the little Decepticon had just vacated to begin her thorough inquiry into the craft's layout. The near black in either direction gave her a moment of pause as the femme turned her own lights on, then she started off the way she had first been brought in from. There had been other doors than the one that the old mech had shoved her through and she meant to investigate them while she still had the chance.

It didn't take Strikewave long to realize that her exploration would take far less time and be considerably less fruitful than she had originally intended. She hadn't realized just how secure the mix-matched bot had made his vessel and was confronted at every door with a lock attuned specifically to Lockdown's mechanics. So there she was, standing before one such portal, arms crossed and on pede tapping idly on the floor as she attempted to think. There had to be some way to get into at least one of the rooms, something that he hadn't secured quite so tightly. If the femme could just figure out what, she would be content to return to her own little chamber until the older bot saw fit to let her out.

After a long cycle, she came up with a potential solution to her problem. This Unaligned mech was a bounty hunter with a penchant for collecting modifications. Her facial plating shifted to a subtle grin and the sprightly Decepticon wet off on her revised personal mission.

---

His processor was slow to boot back up out of recharge but onlining his optics to be faced with the familiar glow of his room aboard his trusted Death's Head was a welcomed touch of comfort. His brief mega-cycles of rest had been haunted by the same images as those that had sparked his need for this job, sending his logic circuits through the same paths that he had neglected for so many solar cycles. Swindle's offer to supply him with parts played against the discipline ingrained into his core from his youngest stellar cycles and the draw of gaining the phantom's approval. The residual pain of the repeated loss of his modifications seeped through into reality despite his firewalls and left him reeling for several long cycles upon rebooting.

The old mech shifted, slowly sitting up and watching the world shift just faster than his stabilizers could keep up so shortly after such a brief recharge. He briefly consulted his internal time systems to check just how short his period of rest had been. A simple and quick calculation to work out that it had been only three and a half megacycles later, Lockdown grimaced and forced himself up. That would have to do for now and he could try again after making sure his ship was still in one piece.

Muttering to himself about starting to get soft as he aged, he knew better than to consider himself one of the oldest bots still around, the bounty hunter left his quarters to examine the condition of his valued vessel. The modifications he'd made to his ship over the cycles had only served to make her that much more important to his way of functioning and he wasn't about to let some little femme, client or no, have her way with it. He had sunk a lot of credits into preserving what he had and the Death's Head was no exception.

It was a fairly simple task for the bounty hunter to take stock of everything given the ship's size and just how much he had stored away on it during his many stellar cycles at his job. Things were far more organized than they tended to look, the currently overstuffed closet being a notable exception to the ordered chaos. This made keeping track of how things should be far easier than his little 'guest' had expected, given how she had managed to get into the least secure of his stores and rearrange some before retreating back to her small room. A spare arm, fitted with a retractable hook similar to what he regularly wore, and a simple cloaking modification had been swapped with each other, a sign that most other bots weren't likely to notice.

Lockdown returned the two trophies to their proper shelves before gritting his dentals and stalking down the hall to disturb his diminutive client. The ragged mech didn't even give her the courtesy of a hard knock on the door before silently commanding it to open. The heavy metal slid back near soundlessly and revealed the small purple and green thing sprawled on her front atop the makeshift berth, supposedly recharging while she had the chance.

The mismatched mech growled and picked the femme up by one of her wings and gave a rough shake to jar her in functioning again before suspending her above the floor. As she booted up enough to take in her new situation, Strikewave automatically lashed out at the servo that had roused her to score a glancing blow. That was all she had the time to manage before finding herself pinned against the wall again, held in place by the larger mech's weight. She squirmed as the pressure began to crease her plating and gave an indignant cry. "Oi, wot're ya doin ya glitchin old malfunction?!"

Lockdown gave a subtle push on the already stressed plating beneath his servo and watched as the femme shifted in another futile attempt to relieve the pressure. "You know why I'm here, you little glitch," he growled. "I made it real clear that you weren't to touch _anything_ outside of this room other than the floor. It looks like you did some exploring after I left you in here."

The smaller bot gave the bounty hunter a grin as she stilled. "Yer quick, aint'cha? Like I told ya earlier, gonna be fun spendin so long 'ere wit ya." Her vocals had gone playful again, sending a reminder that she was clearly no inexperienced sparkling but a bot with a thirst for battle.

The bounty hunter narrowed his optics and glared at the little femme for a cycle, processor running through the multitude of outcomes for the current situation. Facial plating shifted to a neutral grimace as he settled on his course of action, one that would still get him some credits at the end of this unwanted job, and he took a step back. Strikewave dropped to her pedes on the floor and looked up at the only mech that had been willing to put up with her for nearly a stellar cycle as he muttered, "Just follow my rules, kid, before I decide you're not worth the credits."


End file.
